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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367473">Want</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MazalHaMidbar/pseuds/MazalHaMidbar'>MazalHaMidbar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Bittersweet Ending, Consent, Destiel - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Music, Oral, Romance, drunk!Dean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:26:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MazalHaMidbar/pseuds/MazalHaMidbar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is intended to be short, funny, sweet and sad . . . please tell me if you agree or disagree.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Want</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You may wish to look up the lyrics of the four songs mentioned in order to better understand what Cas and Dean are trying to say to each other: “A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action,” “We’ve Got Tonight,” “Addicted to Love” and “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Another Saturday evening at home, another night of passing out drunk for Dean.</p>
<p>Castiel’s favorite human had consumed his first beer at age 9 and apparently had never stopped imbibing in the ensuing three decades. Dean had once estimated his typical weekly intake “in the mid-50s,” or an average of eight doses per day -- habituation to a toxicity rate at least twice that considered alarming for anybody.</p>
<p>From the vantage point of Heaven, Castiel had had millennia to observe that alcohol was historically civilization’s imperfect antidote to emotional, physical and spiritual anguish.  Dean had been on intimate terms with those all his life. Castiel knew he bore some responsibility for that damage, but he tried not to let guilt deter him from someday becoming a guardian truly worthy of his charge.</p>
<p>Why even have such a profound bond with a man yet be unable to ease his pain? But the remedy would not manifest by a split second of applying fingertips as when erasing a corporeal wound. Recalling the title of an inspirational vintage television series, Castiel felt sure there had to be more than one way to be touched by an angel. And he was working on that solution. What he lacked in experience he made up for with research; not needing to sleep, he had ample time to read books, listen to music, and watch TV shows, movies, videos . . .all kinds of videos, demonstrating all kinds of touching.</p>
<p>He entered Dean’s room and shut the door behind him. Dean was slumped on the bed, four empty longnecks on the floor, a half-fifth of whiskey on the nightstand next to the small laptop computer. Castiel shook his head. No matter how many more eons might lie ahead of him, he would never comprehend the supposed efficacy of inebriation. The poisonous liquid might make Dean numb. It had never made him happy.</p>
<p>Castiel gave himself 30 seconds to admire the view: thick light-brown hair, amazing bone structure, a perfectly shaped nose and what was factually the most gorgeous mouth in Creation.</p>
<p>Then he sat down on the rumpled blanket, took Dean’s face between his palms and briefly touched his nose and forehead to Dean’s . . . delicately, angel-feather-light, just enough to arouse him.</p>
<p>“Dean. I want to report to you something quite interesting. My viewing of online videos recently has been most educational. For example, I discovered that pornos are hardly limited to the Asian busty babes that you favor.”</p>
<p>Dean opened his eyes.</p>
<p>“In fact, I now know that the participants need not be busty. Nor must they be Asian. Nor even babes.”</p>
<p>Dean now looked at him steadily, eyes gleaming, as he himself had once gazed at Dean unblinkingly until finally being told, “Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid.”</p>
<p>He would need to break the current stalemate in a non-ambiguous way.</p>
<p>He picked Dean up, got him vertical, pushed him against the door, and kissed him hard, harder, then harder still, exerting even more pressure than with demon-turned-ally Meg long ago. “I learned that from the pizza man,” Castiel had explained to her, referring to his first-ever porno. It was only now that he fully realized that the pizza man, if not truly in love with the babysitter in the film, was at least deeply in lust with her. Castiel understood that feeling now with more than just his mind. Tonight, he didn’t want Meg, nor the actress portraying the babysitter, nor anyone else with a double-X chromosome.</p>
<p>“Dean. Do you remember the first words I ever said to you, the first time I laid my hand on you, hard enough to leave a mark on your shoulder? They were these: ‘I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.’ “</p>
<p>No answer.</p>
<p>“Now you are in another kind of hell. And I could grip you tight again, but in a different way. Save you a second time, by an alternate means.”</p>
<p>Dean still said nothing.</p>
<p>Castiel now kissed him much more slowly, much more gently, experimenting, exploring. Licked each ridge and fold of both ears, nibbled softly at both earlobes. Kissed up and down both sides of Dean’s neck, then finally the front, with special attention to the Adam’s apple. Tossed off the flannel jacket, pulled off the T shirt, licked the nipples, felt them stiffen under his tongue.</p>
<p>Dean shuddered, sweated, breathed deeply, still silent, not resisting but not clearly responding.</p>
<p>Castiel hesitated. He needed to be sure of his course of action. Because he had been wrong so many times before, about so much, in so many ways.</p>
<p>“Dean. Tell me you don’t want this, and it won’t happen. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll go away. Maybe even back upstairs, back to being a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent.”</p>
<p>“No,” Dean finally spoke up, breath ragged, voice even huskier than usual. “I mean, yes. I want. Hell, yeah, I want. I can’t tango with a wavelength. And what does celestial intent even mean?”</p>
<p>“So you wish me to remain incarnate?”</p>
<p>“You mean, keep your current meat suit? Looking like a cross between Rock Hudson and Tab Hunter? Even if I weren’t as hella buzzed as I am tonight, no way am I gonna be turning that down.”</p>
<p>“Then this male vessel poses no concern to you?”</p>
<p>“Dude, no. Let’s just get this party started.”</p>
<p>Castiel unfastened Dean’s zipper, pushed the slacks down, peeled off the boxers.</p>
<p>“I want you to know I have learned to appreciate this masculine form. It allows me any action of which its former owner was capable: erection, ejaculation, impregnation. . .”</p>
<p>“Well, no danger of that last one here, so let’s just call it another win.”</p>
<p>“And a benefit of my being . . . not terrestrial . . . is that I can do things that the late James Novak, may he rest in Heaven, could never do . . .  that he surely would never do. Let me show you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Right. Anything. But just shut up, would you?” Dean grabbed his laptop, punched in “A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action,” raised the volume, and put it on repeat.</p>
<p>Then, for his part, Castiel, keeping his earlier promise, seized Dean’s hip bones not quite hard enough to hurt, and did exactly as Dean had asked.</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, Dean finally caught his breath.</p>
<p>“Damn, Cas. Damn. I mean, damn! Where did you learn that? How could you do – that?”</p>
<p>“More educational viewing. Deep Throat is deservedly a classic of its genre. And I possess angel strength and angel stamina. You already know from that incident some time ago that I can comfortably stand for many hours in one spot without moving. Therefore, I can remain on my knees this entire night. I can do this for you again and again and again, as many times as you wish.”</p>
<p>“Are you trying to kill me, Cas? Are you trying to actually kill me?”</p>
<p>“Dean, no, of course not . . . but you’re speaking figuratively.”</p>
<p>“Um, yeah, especially as we both know that you literally could end me with a snap of your feathery fingertips if you ever really wanted to.”</p>
<p>Dean reached for the laptop again, looping several repetitions of “We’ve Got Tonight.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure that I can really take hours of this, but, if not, I’ll die with a smile on my face.”</p>
<p>However, Dean was fully alive and grinning broadly as the sun was starting to come up.</p>
<p>Finally cooling them both down with some dozen slow, searching kisses, Castiel had them lie lose together on the bed. </p>
<p>“My turn,” he said, taking out his phone and queueing up “Addicted to Love” and “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”</p>
<p>“Dean. Please just listen to the music right now. Don’t talk. Not at all.”</p>
<p>“So, is this going to be the part where we exchange promise bracelets?”</p>
<p>“Dean. I just told you. Pay attention. You need to listen to the lyrics. Carefully. So, as someone else in this very room said only six hours ago, just shut up.” </p>
<p>Castiel unclasped his belt buckle and swiftly ensured the needed silence throughout the time it took for the music to play. Dean obviously lacked his own level of flexibility but acquitted himself admirably, especially for a mortal.</p>
<p>“Dean. Hear me. I believe every word that both those songs say. And I want you to believe them as well. From now on, any time you have a craving – for escape, for excitement, or for just plain comfort – please don’t look to a glass bottle. Don’t. I want you to choose this, instead. I want you to choose me, instead. Choose. Of your own accord. Please choose this. Please choose me. Someday you will have to die a human death, but please don’t let it be earlier than it has to be because of the demon rum.”</p>
<p>“Well, Cas, I gotta tell you, that little heartfelt speech there is over-the-top melodramatic even for you. But I do understand what you’re saying, I do. I will try. I will. I really will,” Dean said, grabbing the last two beers from the six-pack container on the floor and handing one over. “Right after this nightcap.”</p>
<p>“It’s dawn. That means that it would have to be called a daycap.”</p>
<p>“Whatever. One last call for alcohol. And one more round of the other thing, too, if you wouldn’t mind.”</p>
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